Page 1 of Forged in Fire
Chapter 1
Iris
The birthday celebration dissolves around us as guests filter away, leaving behind the remnants of normal life—scattered plates, deflated balloons, the lingering scent of vanilla frosting.
Families and friends are gathered together: Hargen’s protective arm around Vanya’s shoulders, Ember hovering near her parents like she’s still learning she’s allowed to. Even Mara and Luke have found some kind of rhythm; their interaction amiable despite the underlying tension.
And here I am. Standing apart. Always standing apart.
Except now they’re gravitating toward me, pulled by curiosity and alarm at what I’ve just revealed.
“Let’s move this conversation somewhere more private,” Viktor suggests, gesturing toward a smaller passage off the main hall. “Away from curious ears.”
We relocate to Viktor’s office—bookshelves line the walls, a massive conference table dominates one side, while a deskcluttered with maps and paperwork takes up the other. A suitable workspace for the Aurora Collective’s leader. I move toward the table where the others are gathering, phone still clutched in my hand.
“Show us the footage again,” Hargen says, settling beside Vanya on one of the chairs pulled up alongside the table.
I pull up the video, hating how unsteady my hands are as I pass the phone around. Three years of searching, and this grainy security feed is the first real proof that Kieran might still be alive. The figure in the footage moves with that familiar loose-limbed gait, shoulders slightly hunched, the way he always carried himself when he was thinking hard about something. Same auburn hair, same build, same unconscious tilt of the head when he’s concentrating.
It’s him. I know it’s him.
“The timestamp says this was recorded yesterday,” Viktor notes, studying the screen analytically. “Where did you get this?”
“Anonymous contact,” I admit. “Someone who knows I’ve been looking for him.”
The admission feels like weakness, but there’s no point lying to these people. They’ve all risked their necks for each other enough times to recognize desperation when they see it.
“That doesn’t sound ominous at all,” Mara mutters from where she’s perched on the corner of the table, laptop balanced on her knees.
“Could be a trap,” Luke says, though his tone lacks judgment. Just assessment from someone who’s spent decades evaluating threats.
“Of course it could be a trap,” I snap, then catch myself. These people don’t deserve my anger. They’re offering to help when they could just as easily tell me to handle my own problems. “But it’s also the first tangible lead I’ve had in years. You think I’m not going to follow it?”
Everyone exchanges glances—the kind of looks that pass between people who’ve been in the supernatural war business long enough to know that hope and stupidity often wear the same face.
Ember looks up from where she’s been tracing patterns on the table’s surface, her expression troubled. “So, as I told you before, I’ve had dreams about this place…”
“Yes,” I say.
“Well, in my dreams, there’s always someone else there. Someone who doesn’t belong, but can’t leave.”
I snap a look at her. “What do you mean, can’t leave?”
“I don’t know exactly. It’s like they’re… stuck. Waiting for something, or someone.” She meets my eyes, and there’s an old soul quality to her stare that reminds me of why some witches make people nervous. “What if your brother isn’t there by choice?”
“I think that’s a given, don’t you?” Hargen says quietly. He doesn’t say it out loud, but we all know the subtext. That Kieran isn’t just missing—he’s being held. Used. The Syndicate has had three years to break him.
Three fucking years.
“He’s alive,” I say, more to convince myself than anyone else. “For now, I’m just grateful for that.”
But grateful doesn’t cover the sick twist in my stomach when I think about what years of Syndicate hospitality might have done to the brother who used to dare me to jump off garage roofs and sneak out to teenage parties.
“I’m going to get him,” I say, the decision taking shape. “I’m leaving tonight.”
“Because of ten seconds of video and a girl’s dream?” says Luke. Ember shifts awkwardly, staring down at her hands. She’s still not confident in her powers.
“The dreams of a witch,” I tell him. “To me, that’s enough. I’m going to find him.”
